Commitment Pending
by Jiirosensei
Summary: Logan owns and runs a small time bar and diner. Remy applies for a position as waiter etc. Their relationship soon becomes more than work related. LR slash shonen ai yaoi M for later chapters
1. A Good Day for a Bad Mood

It was a cold day for so early in October. Logan watched absently as a gust of wind caught a plastic bag, tossing it past the big picture window in front of the bar.

"Damn site of a day to be caught outside," the man at the bar remarked.

"Thinkin' the same," Logan replied, turning to rinse the glass he'd been holding.

"So have you thought about it?" the man pressed as though he were continuing a conversation they had begun hours ago.

"What does it even have to do with you, Warren?" he sighed irritably. "Look, I told the kid I didn't need any help 'cause I don't. I told him this four times now an' if he wants to make it five, so be it."

Warren glanced up to the old clock hanging above the bar. "It's Thursday." He commented in an offhand sort of way.

"So?" Logan replied, knowing exactly what the other man was getting at.

"It's almost three o'clock." He smiled in a self-satisfied way.

"I know it is." Logan shot gruffly, wetting a towel to wipe down the bar.

"You _know_ he's going to be here." The blonde finally caved. "Are you _really_ going to turn him down again? I don't think I could bare it…"

"Don't you have anything better to do with your time than spendin' it here, tryin' ta turn my life into a soap opera?"

The man cocked his head to the side. "I've taken a philanthropic interest in the boy," he explained.

"Then why don't _you_ give him a job?" Logan retorted.

"You know there isn't anything for him to do in my firm, Logan, he's clearly uneducated…" the last was said out of pity, not disdain, and no insult was intended, but it was true. The boy was barely literate; not exactly material for a multi-million dollar medical firm.

Logan grunted rather than reply as he collected an armload of glasses, carrying them into the back room. "And there's somethin' for him ta' do _here_?" he demanded.

"He could wash dishes." Warren said simply.

"Hmph." Logan grumped. "I don't need nobody to wash dishes. I do it myself, when I get a minute."

"If you let him do it, you wouldn't have to leave your customers." The blonde replied. "He could probably do other things to… sweep, wait tables. Maybe even some of the short order stuff. And if you weren't such a tight-fist about your drinks, he could probably learn to do a lot of that after awhile… you could take a day off."

"You got it all figured out, don'cha?" Logan sneered at him. "I said I don't need him."

"Fine then," Warren decided, "do it to settle our debt."

"What!" the brawny man yelped, startled by the quick jab.

Warren grinned. That was about the response he'd been expecting. "I saved your life, remember? The least you could do is give the kid a job."

"I thought you weren't gonna bring that up anymore." Logan grumped.

"Yes well, you always said you wanted to repay me, now's your chance."

Logan grit his teeth with a low growl, but before he could reply, the bells on the door rang, signaling the entrance of one very talked about young man.

"Great…" Logan muttered.

Warren spun in his seat to watch the action unfold. It really was the most interesting part of his week. He called it a human drama and insisted that Logan was the Ebenezer scrooge of a new era. Logan glared at him from his position on the other side of the bar before changing his attention to their guest.

The kid's old courderoy jacket seemed to grow shabbier with each week and Logan couldn't help but wonder what sort of work he'd been doing to buy the thread holding that tattered rag together. The kid's cheeks were almost as red as his hair, and that was saying something, as that shock of cinnamon had been what first caught Logan's attention about the kid. _Must be colder out there than I thought…_ Logan mused to himself.

The kid rubbed his hands together briskly before looking up. "Bonjour Monsieur!" he greeted cheerily. "Nice day, non?"

"Y' think so?" Logan asked wryly.

"Today, Remy still alive." The boy smiled. "A good day." There was no ire or self pity in the remark; an honest statement.

Logan's mouth felt inescapably dry.

"I ain't got any work for ya'." He said quickly, beating the kid to the punch. He didn't think he could stand hearing him ask it for some reason.

"Non?" the boy asked. "You shua?"

Warren gave the older man a warning glare.

_Dammit… _ He wasn't gonna let that one go. Logan sighed. "What… what can ya' do?" he finally asked.

The boy stood up straighter. "Many t'ings." He replied. "What you wan'… Remy to do?"

Logan felt his stomach surge suddenly. That little pause… the innocent way in which he'd said it… It almost made him ashamed of the thoughts forming in the back of his mind. _That's not what he meant…_ Logan chastised himself. Or was it? He paused to wonder once again what it was that the kid had been doing to take care of himself.

He cleared his throat, turning away. "You can wash the dishes… clean up… do the bathrooms, stuff like that. _Tonight_ only." He added firmly. "We'll see after that…"

"Merci bouqut!" the boy exclaimed.

Logan felt a little pang of guilt. If the kid was that excited to clean his toilets, he _had_ to be in a bad way. "Well… go on then, get in the back and start the dishes." He barked.

The redhead obeyed instantly, heading around the bar, but Logan halted him. "Gimme yer jacket." He told him, grabbing the lapel.

"Ah, oui, shua ting boss." The boy nodded, twisting out of the filthy thing before heading back to the kitchen.

Logan examined the article before raising his eyes to Warren's. "What the hell is this?" he exclaimed in a quiet voice.

"It appears to be… the carcass of a jacket." Warren replied, lifting one sleeve and dropping it in a morbid fashion.

"It's almost see-through…" Logan continued, rubbing the thin material between his thumb and forefinger. "You think this is all he's got?"

Warren shrugged. "I don't know, Ebeneezer, what's with the sudden concern? A visit from the ghost of Christmas past, perhaps?"

"Can it," Logan spat, tossing the jacket on the counter, thouroughly unsettled.

The evening wore on uneventfully, except for the kid's occasional inquiry _"Any'ting mo', Monsieur?"_ He was so innocently eager to do anything that Logan asked… it really got on his nerves. He'd had him take out the garbage, wash the dishes, clean the bathrooms, buss the tables… any number of horrible jobs he could think of.

One night only; that's what he'd agreed to. After that, his debt was settled. He glared at Warren down the length of the bar while fixing drinks for the couple that had just arrived.

"Hey, Gumbo!" he called into the kitchen. "Get'cher ass out here an' start takin' orders!"

The young man emerged from the kitchen, wiping his soapy hands on the apron Logan had provided for him. "Shua ting boss." He smiled, not even batting an eyelash at the harsh manner in which he'd been addressed.

He slipped the apron down, folding it in two and retying it about his waist as he sauntered up to one of the tables. "Bonjour Mad'moiselle et Monsieur." He addressed the couple with a charming smile. "What ah ken get fo' you dis evenin'?"

Logan blinked, awestruck. The kid was a natural. He watched in a stunned silence as the boy deftly took the couple's orders, not writing a thing down, pausing only for a friendly touch here, a convivial hand on the shoulder there, or to lean in, biting his lower lip sensually, mugging with mock-concern as he made the rounds of the tables.

Moments later, Logan could feel his blood boil as the kid returned, the list of orders kept only in his memory and on his fingers. "De firs table want a-"

"Write it down next time." Logan interrupted him angrily.

The boy paused, obviously taken aback. "Don' worry boss," he attempted to brush off the man's concerns, "Remy ken rememba ev'ting dey order. No need. De firs table, dey wan to get-"

"I don't give a shit," Logan replied. "I _said_ write it down."

Remy paused, looking uncomfortable for a minute before straightening and looking Logan directly in the eye; a feat few would attempt. "Ah _can't_ write." He said calmly.

Logan swallowed, caught off guard by such blunt honesty. He paused, not knowing how to respond.

The boy licked his lips before drawing a breath. "Table one want de chicken wit two salads, no dressing. A bee-ah fo Monsieur an' a cocktail fo de lady." He continued, unperturbed.

"…Sure." Logan replied, rummaging for a notepad and jotting the order down quickly. "I can't remember that sort a thing…" he explained self-consciously. He could feel Warren's eyes on him, watching this exchange and it only pissed him off more

As the evening wore on, the clientel changed from college kids and happy couples to older men and depressed loners, but the kid's demeanor stayed the same.

"Jes a drink, Monsieur?" Remy asked the man sitting at the bar, sliding shyly into the seat beside him. "Shua you don' wan' sometin to go wit dat?"

Logan watched, his fist balling angrily in the material of his shirttail, as the man rested his hand on the boy's upper thigh.

"An' what d'you recommend, little man?" The older man asked with a grin.

The man's overforward actions angered Logan, but not nearly so much as the kid's response. He made no effort to deter the man or discourage his advances, only gave a demure smile and a coy chuckle. "Mmm, Remy tink Monsieur would be pleased to try de apple pie. Boss make it his'sef," he replied, shooting a smile to Logan that cut him to the quick. The kid knew he was watching.

"Sure, that sounds fine." The man replied, giving a little squeeze.

"Remy get it fo' you," the boy offered, turning to slide off of the stool.

"Your boss can get it." The man replied gruffly, turning the stool back to face him. "Right, Logan?" he called.

"Yah… sure." The bartender replied in a curt manner, turning towards the kitchen.

"Now," the man asked, leaning in and tugging at a lock of the boy's cinnamon hair. "Where you from, kid? You're a good southern boy, aren'tcha? I ken tell… but what's that accent?"

"Remy from N'Oleans," he replied with a smile. "But ah'm not _dat_ good…"

"I bet'cher not!" the man guffawed, slapping his knee, "I bet'cher not indeed…" He made to place his hand higher on the boy's leg, but was startled as a plate was slammed down in front of him.

"Get'cher ass back in the kitchen, Gumbo!" Logan snapped at the young Cajun, "You got dishes ta do!"

"Shua ting, boss." Remy replied in a meek voice, jumping up from the stool and making a hastey exit.

Logan watched until the boy disappeared from site into the kitchen before lunging across the counter, grabbing the man by the shirt-collar.

"What kinda bar you think this is!" he demanded, giving the man a harsh shake. "You keep yer hands off my waiter, y'hear me? Keep your _goddamn_ hands off my waiter!" And suddenly, Warren was restraining him, pulling him off of the helpless customer, and Logan found himself wondering vaguely how his friend had gotten behind the counter so fast.

"Cool it, Logan," he murmured soothingly, "He was just being friendly, alright?"

The man rubbed his throat, drawing back, unused to such outbursts in his familiar bartender. "Geez, sorry Logan," he mumbled. "Really didn' mean any disrespect. The kid was bein' friendly, I was just tryin' ta be social…"

"Yeah, I bet'cha were…" Logan growled, trying half-heartedly to pull out of the armlock he was being held in. He knew he could escape it easily, but that wasn't the point. Warren knew the man's strength, he had only intended to remind Logan of his tenuous position in the world of men.


	2. Welcome Back, Prodigal Dishwasher

_**-scene-**_

Logan locked the door, sliding the deadbolt into place as the last customer left for the night; though to call it 'night' wouldn't have been exactly correct, as the hands of the old wooden clock had just clicked past three.

Logan sighed deeply, shuffling the bottles behind the bar until his hand fastened around the familiar form of the scotch. A good scotch, he reasoned, was a lot like a good woman; strong, a good body and lots of fire.

He lovingly caressed the curves of the bottle while fishing for a clean glass.

"Shit," he cursed, finding none. He grumbled to himself, heading back into the kitchen, but was startled to find the kid hunched over the sink, practically asleep on his feet.

"Jesus, forgot he was here…" he mumbled to himself. He paused a minute before clearing his throat, reaching for his billfold.

The kid snapped to attention, dropping the glass he'd been mindlessly scrubbing back into the soapy dishwater. "Ah, desole, boss." He rubbed at his eyes blearily. "Guess Remy drop off a minute deya."

Without reply, the older man shoved a wad of bills into the kid's hand.

Remy froze, examining the money. "Boss, dis too much," he protested, pushing it back towards the man.

"What?" Logan demanded, "Y'ain't worth twelve bucks an hour? That's a hell of a lot less than I make."

Remy hesitated, considering the logic, but had no other choice as the older man turned away from him, snatching a glass off the rack and exiting the kitchen.

The boy blinked, startled. "B-boss!" he hurried after him.

The man slammed down the glass, filling it to the edge with the amber liquor.

"Go home. Get some shut-eye." He said gruffly. "I wan'cha back here at six."

The boy nodded enthusiastically and it was easy to see he was happy. "Merci!" he blurted, "Merci Bouquet!"

"Shit," Logan chuckled. "You wear yer emotions like boyscout badges, don'cha?"

"Don see no reason to hide how ah feel." He replied with a smile.

Logan fished for a cigar in his shirt pocket considering this. "That a fact?" he asked the air. "Hmm…"

The redhead toed the ground a second. "Hey boss…" he asked tentatively, "About early'a, jes wan to say-"

"Don' want ta talk about that." Logan replied gruffly.

"But boss," Remy continued.

"Ya' got ears, kid?" he shot, "I said It ain't up for discussion, now get outta here b'for I change my mind about keepin' ya around!"

"Ah, D'accord!" the young man yelped, leaping for the door.

He paused outside, glancing back to the building. "merci de l'aide je." he murmured. ((thank you for saving me))

_**-scene-**_

The next day passed in a familiar fassion. Logan alternated sleeping and drinking his anger away until noon rolled around and it was time to open the bar.

It wasn't long before his first customer showed up, a cocky smirk on his face.

"Good morning, sunshine." He greeted. "You're looking well…" He took a sniff of the air, "for someone who apparently bathed in booze last night."

"Shut yer yap." Logan growled, setting a glass before the man.

"Same." Warren told him, gesturing towards the shelf.

Logan rolled his eyes, grabbing a blue bottle and pouring two finger-widths into the glass, topping it off with a chilled lemon soda.

"I _like_ it that way." Warren warned.

"Whatever. It's still froofy." Logan accused.

"Not everyone takes hard liquor with their morning tea." Warren retorted, glowering into his glass.

There was relative silence for a moment while Logan searched for his misplaced broom.

Finally, Warren broke the quiet. "That was an interesting display last night…" he began tentatively, feigning disinterest, "Grabbing Amos by the throat like that…"

"Was a bad night," Logan grunted in reply.

"He's a regular." Warren noted. "That's not good PR."

"Shut it." Logan replied. "It ain't sometin' we need to discuss."

"He apologized…" Warren offered.

Logan exploded. "He's a goddamn pervert! A useless, goddamn pervert! He comes in here, orders the cheapest drink, assaults my waiter-!"

"_Your _waiter?" Warren raised a questioning eyebrow. "That's pretty possessive considering you didn't even want to hire him yesterday."

"Yesterday n' today are too different things, an' one's got nothin' ta do with the other." Logan huffed irritably.

"Mmm," Warren nodded. "So your temper would have nothing to do with that young, lanky, redheaded piece of innocence you had waltzing about here last night?"

"Feh! Innoccent my ass..." Logan retorted, still on his crusade to find the broom. "Kid's a fucking natural."

"What are you implying?" Warren pressed, knowing full well.

"I'm just sayin' he sure seems to have some experience with… _customers_." He drawled the word.

"You're saying he's a whore." Warren elaborated.

"I ain't sayin' nothin… just seems to know the ways a' things." He replied calmly, then turned to face Warren. "But that ain't the sorta joint I run an' you know it."

Warren studied his friend for a moment. "Oh, so then this has nothing to do with your jealousy?"

"Jealousy!" Logan shouted. "Fer what? I got everything I want!"

Warren laughed, taking a sip of his "froofy" drink. "So you're denying you're attracted to the boy."

Logan's face paled. "A- a WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ON ABOUT!" he bellowed, turning away quickly. "That's the most- Yer lucky I don't- WHERE IS THAT GODDAMN BROOM!"

"In de broom clo-set." Came the answer.

Logan spun around quickly, facing the door where the young redhead was standing.

"I tol' ya ta come in at six." He snapped.

"Remy know you did." He shrugged. "Ah got no-tin to do 'till den. Figua mebbe dey sometin ah ken do heeya."

Logan paused. "How long ya' been standin' there?" he demanded.

Remy thought a moment. "Handfull o' seconds, ah fig'ya."

Logan hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. Well… why don'cha sweep the floor then."


	3. Room for Rent, Rent for Free

_**-scene-**_

Logan ran his hands through his hair, tugging his fingers through the short, black tufts in frustration.

"Dammit Warren…" he mumbled to himself.

"_You're attracted to him."_

"Fuck." He'd been watching the kid like a hawk all evening, no, more like a mother hen; dangerously protective.

He'd always felt relaxed at the bar. It was a calm place; stress free and easy. That was why he'd left the mansion in the first place.

He'd always been protecting, watching, tensing till it drove him mad; first Jeanie, then Charles and the kids, then eventually all of them.

He couldn't take it after awhile; he got spread too thin. When they went to battle, he'd take the front, draw the attacks; try to fight the entire battle himself. He couldn't count the number of times he'd been slashed, gutted, riddled with bullets or maimed and mutilated in some other way. …And then the war was over, the Brotherhood, Striker, the FOH… It was all in the past, and yet, he _still_ couldn't relax.

There were skinned knees and broken hearts, Bobby's failing grades or Kitty not getting invited to the girls' party; a hundred fatherless kids all looking to him for the guidance their own folks had neglected to give, and why him? He was brutish, feral, wild, but he was safe. Sturdy, reliable, dependable, at least to the kids. His heart gave a little twinge remembering the many failed attempts to win a certain redhead's hand. He was everything they needed him to be… and it was driving him mad.

_"Go on, Logan."_

"_But Charles-"_

_"Take a vacation. A few years away from the mansion might do you some good. Don't worry, we'll contact you if anything should arise."_

_"Now look-!"_

"_He's right, you're not well, Logan…"_

_"Not you too, red!"_

"_It's not just her, Logan, we've all noticed."_

_"Hank? What is this? A friggin' intervention!"_

And he'd left. What choice did he have? It had been two years, and they were right. Out here, he could relax. The broken dreams of bums were easier dealt with than those of teenage girls.

Out here, no one knew what a mutant was, or why they should have cause to fear their surly, short-sheet bartender. It was all a pretty relaxing deal… _until the kid came along…_

Now those instincts were kicking in worse than ever before.

Was the kid getting thinner?

Was that jacket getting shabbier?

Weren't the customers a little _friendlier_ than usual?

And Warren was watching him all the while.

Warren was the only one who had come down, offering the excuse that things were too quiet without Logan stirring up trouble. And maybe it _wasn't_ just an excuse, 'cause he'd stayed. These last six months, he'd stayed, and though it seemed _Warren_ was the one stirring up trouble, Logan had to admit it wasn't entirely unwelcome, but that kid…!

"Goddammit, Remy! Get'cher gumbo-lovin' ass back in the kitchen an' start the dishes!"

"Shua ting, boss!" the Acadian called with a grin, brushing a russet lock from his dazzling eyes, and that's when Logan noticed it for the first time. Something wasn't right about the kid's eyes. But he didn't have time to ponder as a disappointed cacophony rose in response to the change of events.

The kid sauntered around the corner like an obedient mutt to his master.

"Aw! Don't go Remy, come sit with me!" one man cat-called.

"Remy can't!" the boy protested giddily, "Boss say time fo' dishes. Got to wash dishes ta keep ma' job!"

"Ah, don't listen to him!" the man continued. "I'll take care of you, baby!"

"Cochon!" Remy poo-poo'd the man playfully. "Remy much preffer monsieur boss's company." He rested his hands on Logan's broad chest as he passed, accenting his point.

Logan stiffened at the intimate touch as the boy disappeared into the kitchen and the rowdy man's friends jeered him for the rejection.

Logan caught Warren grinning and glowered.

_**-scene-**_

The evening wore into night, and the night gave way to early morning, bringing with it a pre-dawn downpour. It was nearing one. The kid would be exhausted, Logan knew. He'd been there since just after noon, and Logan had been giving him the shit jobs all night. He felt a little twist of guilt in his stomach, but he tried to ignore it as he pushed open the door to the kitchen.

The redhead was meticulously scrubbing the grease-caked cast-iron, determined not to be caught nodding off on the job again.

"Get'cher coat." He ordered gruffly. "It's raining; I'll take ya home."

The boy stiffened and his face went white. "Ah, no need, Boss," he replied hastily, grabbing his coat from the hook next to the door. "No need t' trouble y'sef. Remy walk in de rain befo', dis boy not gon' melt, not made a' suga'." He flashed that cocky grin, and Logan was just starting to realize that it was a mask.

"Don't matter if ya' done it before," he shook his head, already reaching for his own jacket. "I don't want ya to tonight."

"No, hones' boss, no need, Remy like to walk, like de fresh air. Good fo' de body, non?"

"Yah, an' I'm sure pneumonia is too," Logan rolled his eyes. "Now stop with the bullshit and come on." He grabbed his keys, shutting off the bar lights.

"Non." The boy said firmly. His voice was quiet, but stubborn.

Logan narrowed his eyes. "No?" he asked dangerously. Nobody told him no.

The boy stood straight and tall, a perfect poker face, devoid of all emotion. "Das right." He replied calmly. "Remy gon' to walk."

Logan took three calm steps towards the boy, forcing him back against the wall of the kitchen. "I don't _like_ my offers bein' refused." He growled through his teeth, "So put on your damn jacket and get in the damn car."

The kid shook his head, successfully intimidated by the bigger man.

Logan braced his hand on the wall by the kid's head, leering at him angrily. The kid had been sashaying around his diner all evening, getting the older man's tongue, temper and pants all in a bind and he was about at the breaking point with this impertinence. The little brat was really starting to rile him. "_Why won't you let me take you home?_" he hissed.

"Cause ah don' wan'choo ta see wheya ah live." The kid admitted in a meek voice.

Logan halted, his anger giving way to the cold shock. As the anger left him, it gave reason and conscience the chance to seep back in, making Logan uncomfortably aware of his outburst. He could feel the cool wall, sweaty against his palm, only inches from the boy's face. He could not only see the fear on the kid, but he could smell it, and as he felt a tightening in his groin, he cursed himself angrily to know that another's fear could excite him this much.

The kid was shorter than he had originally thought, or maybe he was just so dwarfed by Logan's anger… There was no sound but the steady dripping of the faucet and Remy's tremulous breathing.

"_Shit_." Logan cursed under his breath, pulling away to wipe the sweat from his brow. He exhaled softly, trying to calm his jangled nerves. "Kid…" he began slowly, much more kindly than he'd been before. "Why wouldn't ya want me ta see?"

_**-scene-**_

The rain had stopped, so they'd decided to walk after all. In a way, they'd both won. The two were silent as they approached the island of the park in the middle of the suburban jungle.

"Uh, kid…" Logan broke the silence. "This is a park."

The boy turned to give him an unimpressed look. "You shua dee obsa'vent one, boss." He commented.

"Yah, pride myself on it." He replied sarcastically.

Wordlessly, the kid lead the way to a small bridge over a long-dried-up creek, ducking underneath.

What Logan saw made his breath hitch in his chest and he had to swallow to keep from yelling. It wasn't that he hadn't seen worse, but his guilt never escaped the suffering of others.

A small, tent-like structure had been erected using the leftovers of an old blue tarp and several cardboard boxes. Inside the ramshackle hut was a mildewing pile of cloth-scraps and a faded, worn out satchel.

"Now you unda'stan." The boy replied, his voice cracking, but only slightly. He took a deep shuddering breath, and suddenly, his demeanor changed. "Not es'acly de place fo' entatainin' guests!" he joked. "Don' wan'choo ta tink ah'm not grateful fo' de job, but y'no rent a little mo' expensive deeze days…" He eventually tapered off when he realized that Logan wasn't responding to his jests and jabs and that awkward, self-consciousness crept back into his posture.

Logan cleared his throat, once… twice, and then one final time before responding. "Y'aint stayin' here." He avowed.

"Que?" The boy blinked in surprise, his long lashing dusting his cheeks. "But Monsieur boss… dis de on'y place ah-"

Logan gripped the boy's arm in one massive paw, steering him away from the degradation of his former life.

"Ah! Attente! Wait, mah bag!" the boy protested, wriggling out of his grasp to grab the tattered satchel. He clutched it to his chest like a child with a beloved stuffed-animal.

"Alright, fine." Logan snapped hurriedly, "But yer' comin' back ta the bar."

Remy shook his head. "Non, boss, da's too much, Ah… Remy be fine heeya."

"Bullshit." Logan replied in a matter-of-fact sort of way. "Either yer comin' back on yer own, er I'm carryin' ya. Which is it gonna be?"

Remy blanched. He gave the man a quick once over and decided he could certainly do it if he wanted to before trotting up to his side. "D'accord." He agreed. "But… jes tonight."

"Whatever." Logan replied, trying to decide where he was going to put the kid.


	4. Omlets and Acrimony

_**-scene-**_

Logan grunted, folding out the old cot, then stood back to admire his handiwork. An old cot in a broom closet wasn't much of a bedroom, but it was sure as hell better than the rat trap the kid _had_ been living in.

"Come on," he commanded, leading the boy across the hall to his own room, "I'll get'cha some blankets."

Remy followed close on the man's heels, his eyes darting down the narrow hallway. He'd never been allowed access to the upper levels of the bar before and it was all very exciting.

Logan's room was almost as bare as Remy's closet, adorned only with an aging, steel bed frame, a wooden dresser, what appeared to be an army trunk, and three angry looking gashes down one wall.

Remy glanced to the man, assessing him; a little out of curiousity, a little trepidation.

The room did, however, posses one feature the boy genuinely envied; a window. He loved the way the cool rays of the moon streamed through the glass, casting shadows on the uneven wooden floor.

Logan rummaged in the army trunk, producing a set of sheets and a scratchy looking blanket which he shoved into the kid's arms, starteling him from his marveling, before grabbing a pillow from his own bed.

"Go on." He pushed the boy, closing the door behind him. "Bathroom's down the hall." He told the kid. "Y'need a towel er somethin', they're in the closet."

"Merci." Remy murmured, still in awe of the entire situation.

After Logan had retreated to his room, Remy made up the rickety cot and toed off his boots, sliding beneath the covers. He was surprised to find that the blanket was not at all as he had expected it to be. It was warm and soft and held a comforting musky smell within its folds.

He stretched up as far as his lanky torso would allow, catching the drawstring of the light between the tips of his fingers. He gave it a tug, and with a soft _'k-chink'_, he was left in the dark.

He lay back, sighing deeply into the pillow and flushed hot in sudden realization. The smell on the blanket was the same as the pillow, and that smell… was Logan.

_**-scene-**_

The man had been sleeping soundly for the past thirty minutes when a thought suddenly woke him. He hadn't eaten dinner. Now, that usually wouldn't bother him, but there was a nagging thought in the back of his mind. If _he_ hadn't eaten, then most likely, neither had the kid.

He tossed off the covers, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, hissing slightly at the cool contact of cold floor to bare feet. He padded quietly across the hall only to notice that the closet door had been left hanging open and its occupant was nowhere to be seen. Logan grunted to himself and ambled down the heavy wooden stairs to the kitchen.

The kid's back was to him which made him an easy target for observation. Logan watched as the redhead drained a glass of water before sauntering to the sink to refill it.

"Hold it." Logan's gruff command arrested the boy's action.

Remy spun around, clutching the glass to his chest in surprise. "Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed. "Gon'scaya de life out a person!"

The older man frowned, stalking up to the boy and snatching the glass from his hand. "There ain't any need for that here." He told him, turning away and putting the glass in the sink.

"Excusez-moi ?" The boy asked, confused.

Logan jerked open the fridge, casting the boy an un-amused look over his naked shoulder. "If yer hungry, then eat. Ya' don't need ta be fillin' up on water."

Remy flushed, his cheeks going almost as red as his hair. He'd been found out. It was rare that someone called his bluff.

"Now, lessee…" Logan was mumbling as he dug through the contents of his refrigerator. "How ya' feel about breakfast?" he asked with a wry grin. "It's still morning, after all."

The young man's stomach replied before he himself had the chance, with a low, angry gurgling. He grinned. "Sound divine, Boss."

Logan paused a minute. "That's another thing. Y'gotta stop with all this 'Boss' stuff, kid. Name's Logan. It make's me feel older than I already am, an' that's sayin' somethin'."

Remy paused a minute in thought. "Den you got to stop wit dis 'kid' stuff, Boss. Make me feel younger den ah am… an ah don' have to tell you _da's_ sayin' a lot." he smirked coyly.

Logan quirked an eyebrow. He wasn't used to taking orders, or making bargains, especially with a punk kid that cleaned his toilets. "That a fact?" he asked, amused. "Well Gumbo, then ya' better earn it."

"Shua t'ing _Kanuk_." The kid shot back, and Logan stood a bit straighter, having retrieved the eggs and sausage from the refrigerator.

"How'd ja' know where I was from?" he demanded, a bit more gruffly than he intended to.

Remy chuckled. "Y'undastan' mah French, Ya drink Molson, an' ya' dressed like somebody in a lumberjack porno." He replied. ((Molson in a famous Canadian Brand Beer))

Logan glanced down to his red, flannel boxers. "They're comfortable." He defended, turning away quickly. He snatched a frying pan from the wall, cracking a few eggs into it before it had even gotten warm. "Cut." He ordered, tossing an onion to the Cajun. "Ya' like omelets?"

"Y'no Logan," the kid replied, trying out the new name. "Remy not really in a place ta disagree, non?"

"Hn." Logan grunted. "Good point. Shut-up then."


	5. Wake me when you need me

_**-scene-**_

Logan set the steaming plate before the kid and watched a moment as he picked up his fork and began to eat with a flourish and grace belying a much more refined upbringing than he would have been afforded on the street.

He snatched two beers from the fridge, handing one to his tablemate before taking the seat across from the boy.

Remy glanced up, looking surprised. "You shua ah'm old enough?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

"You think I give a damn?" Logan countered.

"Well, since you put it _dat_ way…" the boy grinned, accepting the bottle.

The two ate in silence a minute before the quiet was broken by an exclamation of "Mon Dieu!"

Logan glanced up. The kid's eyes were wide in surprise, his fingers lightly covering his mouth. "Tres bien!" he told the older man. "Dis _real_ good!"

"Course it is." Logan replied, embarrassed. "I don't run a diner fer nothin'."

The two ate quietly for awhile before the boy again broke the silence. "Didn' have to do dat…" he commented softly.

"Hn?" Logan asked around a mouthful of food. "Do what?"

Remy shifted. "What 'choo did… de udder night… when dat man put his hans on me."

Logan's hackles rose. "Can't let it go, can ya?" he asked a bit testily.

Remy shrugged. "Jes grateful ah guess…"

Logan was quiet. "Oh" Logan replied, then, as an afterthought. "Yer welcome."

_**-scene-**_

Logan sighed. It was becoming more and more obvious to him. He'd tried to deny it at first, but he realized now that Warren had been right. He liked the kid… Not to say he'd ever admit it to Warren!

He watched over the edge of the newspaper as the young, southern boy dutifully scrubbed the tiled floor behind the bar, the sinewy muscles in his bare arms flexing with each motion, the hem of his blue jeans creeping dangerously lower with each passing moment, and Logan, the whole time, willing them to do so.

He'd realized it maybe a week ago, maybe longer. Maybe it was the day the kid had borrowed Logan's jacket, and the way it had smelled afterwards of musk and spice and sweat. Maybe it was that morning the kid had sauntered downstairs for breakfast wearing nothing but a pair of tighty-whiteys and an oversized t-shirt, two crescent slivers of vanilla showing where the underwear met his thighs and had chosen to creep up. Or maybe it was every night when Logan was by himself, 'relieving a little tension' and trying to convince himself that it wasn't the kid he was wanking off to. Maybe it was even before that. He couldn't say. All he did know was that it was impossible to deny any longer. When he called "_Boss_" in that oh-so-trusting manner, Logan's heart thudded dully in his adamantium ribcage. When he walked past the older man with a gentle touch here and a dulcet "_Excusez moi…"_ his cock would remind him how very tight his pants could be. If a customer looked at the kid wrong, then he was in the kitchen, washing dishes for the rest of the night.

He couldn't say he wasn't angry about it. Sure, the kid was obviously a professional, and he knew it. He felt foolish being played by such a pup. But he also felt guilty. The kid wanted a job; an honest day's work and an honest day's pay, not some geezer getting off to fantasies about what sort of fun that firm, round backside would be good for.

"Boss?" the kid called, and the impatience in his voice let on that it wasn't the first time he'd had to ask.

Logan blinked. "Hn?" he asked.

"Remy bored." The boy pouted. He was on his hands and knees, his back arching sensually as he craned his neck to look over his shoulder at the burly older man.

"What do I care?" Logan grinned.

The boy stuck out his bottom lip and Logan had to bite his own to keep from thinking about how full and red they seemed. "_Boss!_" he whined, "Been doin' dis fo' _hours_." He collapsed on the floor, his hind end still in the air and Logan had to turn away to hide the flush that was still on his cheeks.

"Well then get the hell up." He told him gruffly.

"Yay!" the boy exclaimed, jumping up and wrapping his arms around the older man's waist. "Take me fo' a ride, c'mon, you promise!"

"That was if you finished the floor." Logan reminded. "You just quit, remember?"

"Ah finish it later." Remy bargained. "Come on, les go…"

_**-scene-**_

Moments later found the two standing in the garage, admiring a sleek, black motorcycle.

"What is it with you and this bike?" Logan demanded. "I take ya' fer one ride and yer sold. Hell, I bet I don't even have ta' pay ya' anymore." He teased. "Just give ya' a ride at the end of the day." Logan stopped, considering. Hell, if he was allowed to give the kid a 'ride' at the end of the day, he figured _he_ wouldn't need to be paid either.

Remy was admiring the bike with mounting anticipation as he clung to Logan's jacket sleeve.

Logan glanced down noticing the shabby corduroy jacket the kid was always wearing. "Take that rag off." He told the kid, shoving his own jacket into the Cajun's hands.

"But Boss," the redhead protested. "Ef Remy take yo' jacket, what'choo gon' weya?"

"I got tough skin." The man told him. "I'll be fine."

Remy paused a moment, but slipped on the jacket as he appraised the man's muscular arms, deciding he was probably right.

He waited in anticipation as Logan started the bike.

"Well? Come on." Logan ordered, patting the seat behind him.

Remy swung his leg over the seat, settling himself with the older man between his knees.

He had been nervous the first time he'd mounted the bike. Sure, he'd rode motorcycles before, but nothing like this. This was a Harley.

The bike was bigger and more powerful than the little scooters he'd had the opportunity to experience.

The bike shuddered and rumbled beneath him and he flushed a little at the feeling of the vibration between his thighs. He scooted forward, bumping his hips against Logan, and tightened his grip around the older man's waist as the bike tore out of the garage.

Logan loved the feeling of the wind whipping past his face, combing through his hair like fingers, and that much power riding full-throttle under his body, but more than that, he was loving the feeling of the boy's arms wrapped around him, his hands bunching in the material of Logan's wife-beater. He loved how the kid would grab on tighter when he revved the bike, but he even loved slowing down, because then he could catch a whiff of the kid's scent; of his sweat and exhilaration, and a hint of something else; something very much like arousal. Thinking that his bike turned the kid on was almost as good as wishing it was him.

It was a Sunday, and the bar was closed, so they rode until long after sunset. It was a longer ride than Logan had ever allowed the boy to take with him, but for some reason, he didn't want it to end, and he could assume the reason was the kid's breath on his ear, or the feeling of that youthfully muscular chest pressing against his back, or maybe it was just being held like that, trusted like that… needed like that again.

When they finally returned to the bar, it was late, and the kid was ducking his head every few minutes to hide the fact that he was yawning.

Logan chuckled to himself, but to Remy he said "Better get some sleep, we open at noon tomorrow."

Remy nodded, sliding out of the leather jacket and handing it back to the older man as he unlocked the door to the upper apartments.

Remy smiled to himself as he mounted the stairs, and he couldn't remember a better time. He knew that his face was red, and he didn't know if he would ever stop blushing again, but he didn't care.

_**-scene-**_

With a gasp, Logan sat bolt-upright in his bed, clutching at the sides of his head in agony and shock, unsure whether he was awake or dreaming. His mind was on fire with a static electricity, a barrage of pain and emotion. His claws popped instinctively and he slashed at the air, trying to drive back the unrelenting attack. There was sadness and confusion, and pain; so much pain! He dug at his chest, driven temporarily mad by the assault, trying to gouge the emotions out, to rid himself of them, or at least distract himself with a more physical, therefore more controllable pain. He could not see, could not breathe, was so overwhelmed by the aching and the screaming in his own head, but suddenly, he heard a different sort of scream. It was both heart-wrenching and blood-curdling at the same time… and it was very much not in his head.

Logan grit his teeth, controlling his senses enough to stagger from his room to the closet across the hall. Yanking the door open, he jerked the chain for the light.

Remy was trashing on his cot in some imagined terror, his face stained with tears and streaked with cuts he must have inflicted in his sleep.

Logan grabbed the kid's wrists frantically, yanking him into a sitting position. "Wake up kid!" he commanded. "Wake the hell up!"

The boy gasped sharply, his eyes snapping open, dilated and unfocused for a minute. Finally, consciousness seemed to dawn on him, and with it, the terror within Logan's own mind abated. And then he knew. Staring into those red on black eyes, still tasting the residual blood in his mouth from where he'd bitten his tongue during the fit, he knew. "Yer a Mutie." He stated.

The kid's eyes flashed terror and he jerked away quickly, snatching for a contact case beside his bed. "Ah ken explain! Ah ken explain!" he was protesting desperately.

"Ain't no need for ya' ta explain." Logan said softly, cupping the boy's chin and turning him back to face him. He studied those absurd eyes for a moment longer. "Yer an empath then, er something?" he asked.

The boy nodded slightly. "An' other tings…" he said quietly, seemingly as mesmerized by Logan's eyes as the man was by his. "You not… angry?" he asked meekly.

"A little shook up." Logan told him with a chuckle. "But there ain't no reason ta be angry."

"But Ah…"

"You got the gene." Logan said simply, raising a hand and popping his claws with a crisp '_snikt'_ sound "Me too, kid." He let the claws slide back into place, the wounds quickly knitting themselves closed. "But I guess you ain't as lucky. Without those lenses, yer a 24-7 ain't ya?" He sighed. "Me, I can pass if I gotta…"

Remy turned away, casting his eyes down in obvious shame as he reached for the contact case again.

And again, Logan captured his chin, turning the boy back to face him. "Don't." he breathed. "I like 'em."

The young Acadian glanced up in wonder, but only had a second to breathe before the older man's lips were suddenly and unexpectedly on his own. His lips parted in an almost instinctual motion as his eyes slid closed and the man made no hesitation about deepening the kiss. Remy whimpered slightly at the taste of the man; hot and a bit sour with the hint of Tobacco. He hadn't realized until that moment how badly he'd wanted to taste those lips or that mouth, but suddenly, he couldn't get enough. He was clinging to Logan's shirt, pressing himself needily against the man, panting into his kiss.

Logan's mind was overwhelmed with his own passion, and the kid's as well, as Remy hadn't had the chance yet to put his shields back up, finally it became almost unbearable and Logan had to pull away.

Remy gave a disapproving sound at the loss of contact and his eyes fluttered open, unsure. His cheeks were red and warm and his chest was heaving. "Boss?" he asked softly.

"I- ah crap… I'm sorry…" Logan faltered. "Shit, I didn't mean to, I swear ta God…"

Remy bit his lower lip, sitting back on his haunches. He slid a hand forward insecurely, touching Logan's own. "Boss… Remy like it when you do dat… jes now…" he offered shyly.

Logan glanced to the kid, then licked his lips softly, still tasting the Cajun's breath on them. "Get some sleep." He said gruffly, pulling away. He turned quickly and exited the room, leaving Remy alone.

Remy stared after him for quite some time before curling back up on the cot. He buried his face in the pillow, trying to memorize the man's smell, but it had been weeks, and the scent was beginning to fade. His shoulders shook slightly, but he was too exhausted to cry and he stared at the wall instead. What did it all mean? Too much had happened all at once, and eventually, sleep claimed his fatigued mind.

_**-scene-**_

In his own room, Logan paced, cursing himself. _Shit!_ Why had he done it? And _Shit!_ Why had he left? And which one was he more upset about. The look on the kid's face; that pleasant surprise and hope, but he wasn't the first one to put that look there, he reasoned. No way. He wasn't going to fall for a _joy boy_. He had too much experience with their type and love for pay wasn't his style.


	6. And Need Me When You Wake

Deciding he wouldn't get much sleep anyway, he slunk to the garage to tweak his bike and maybe work on the old Chevy he had up on blocks.

Once in the garage, he sighed deeply. Though there wasn't often stress in this lifestyle, it was hard to relieve. Everything here was so mundane, so… _domestic_. No danger room to blow off steam in, no harrowing missions to take his mind off of the raging of his own emotions, and booze was beginning to lose its charm.

He kicked a dusty wrench out of his way and plopped down on an overturned bucket. This was turning out to be a lot more complicated than he'd hoped.

Sure, he could fuck the kid. It wasn't like he'd never spent the night with a prostitute. But what would that gain him? Besides, the kid was working for him now, for whatever reason, and it would only make things uncomfortable. Besides… Logan didn't want to just fuck him. Sure, he wanted to _fuck_ him, but more than that too, and that's where things got complicated. The last time he'd found himself feeling this strongly… -_a flash of red hair, a teasing grin-_ , Well, she was happy with Scott now.

Even though the _good_ thing to do, the _altruistic_ thing, was to be glad for that fact, Logan realized that he wasn't. Sure he wanted her happy, but he'd wanted her happy with him. He hadn't felt like that for anyone, as far as he could remember, before or since. So why now? Why the kid? It was true, Logan hadn't been with a man before, but the thought didn't exactly bother him, and he was pretty sure he could figure it out in a pinch. But that had nothing to do with it. If it was just tail he was chasing, it would be easy enough to find. Out here, he didn't have a reputation to protect and everyone pretty much expected it. Not just out of him, but every healthy man. It was that sort of town. Not a bad place, just kind of back woods, and more concentrated on meeting hedonistic needs than actual ones.

Was he just a substitute? Logan wondered. Was the kid just a substitute for Jean? The same hair, the same teasing smile… it was possible, and that disturbed him. He'd thought he was pretty much past all that. Not over it, sure, but at least past it. But what was bothering him more than why he'd kissed the kid was why he'd stopped.

Because his feelings had already grown deeper than he'd originally intended, he realized. Because what he'd hoped would just fizzle out in the form of harmless lust was developing into something much more severe.

"Dammit…" he grumbled.

_**-scene-**_

Remy lay on his cot, staring at the dim ceiling. He knew it was morning from the sliver of light creeping under his door. He also knew he would have to get up soon and go to work… he would have to face Logan. He touched his lips lightly with the tips of his fingers. It had surprised him too, but apparently not in the same way as it had surprised the stockier man. He had to admit, at least to himself, that he'd been developing feelings for the man these past weeks. He'd thought at first that he was just grateful for all Logan had given him, but recently, he'd begun to realize it was something more. When he'd catch Logan watching him and a blush would fly to his cheeks as he caught himself hoping that Logan was thinking thoughts about him like the one's he thought about Logan, he would realize. When he'd lye awake at night on his cot, straining to hear anything, Logan's rhythmic breathing, a slight creek, and it was comforting, he would begin to realize.

He rubbed at his eyes, trying to rouse himself. Maybe he could pass off the depression in his eyes as sleep deprivation… but he didn't think he could hide the ache in his voice.

Finally, deciding it was inevitable, he put his contacts in and slipped his blue jeans back on, heading for the kitchen. Logan wasn't there, and maybe he wouldn't be for awhile. Remy felt a slight twinge of pain at that fact. He'd been growing rather fond of their breakfasts together. He glanced to the sink, noticing last night's unfinished dishes. He figured he'd better get them started at any rate.

_**-scene-**_

Logan wiped the grease on his jeans, finally having gotten around to his bike, as he strolled through the connecting door to the kitchen. He stopped short, noticing that the kid was up. "Oh." He exclaimed, unsure of what sort of response to follow up with.

The boy turned around, but did not speak. Things had certainly gotten awkward.

"Er…" Logan cleared his throat. "Not gonna be especially busy today." He told him. "You could… sleep in if ya wanted to."

Remy hesitated, but shook his head, deciding to stand his ground. "Like bein' roun' ya, boss." He said quietly. "Don' much feel like sleepin."

Logan felt himself flush slightly, taken aback by the kid's honesty. "Fine." He replied in a clipped voice. "Well then just… just take it easy I guess."

With that, he spun around, headed for the bar to unlock the doors.

As per usual, Warren was waiting with a grin.

"You're looking chipper." He teased Logan.

Logan grunted. "Don't need it today, Wings, got enough problems goin' on."

Warren raised an eyebrow. "Like what?" he pried.

"Like a nosy friggin' customer." Logan replied, ushering the man inside. "Usual?"

Warren glanced around the room. "Where's Remy?"

"Kitchen." Logan replied curtly. "What'll it be?"

"Why's he in the kitchen?" Warren pried.

Logan glared at him. "Cause I hired 'im ta wash the dishes!" Logan shot. "That a problem?"

Warren shrugged. "I don't suppose so, but the two of you seemed to be growing so close lately, it's odd to see you apart. I know, I know," he brushed off Logan's attempted protest, rolling his eyes. "You're not attracted to him, so-"

"I ain't denyin' that no more." Logan replied gruffly, turning away.

"Hn?" Angel inquired. "…There's more to this story, right?"

Logan sighed. He really didn't want to share his innermost feelings with an ex-teammate, but he was sure having a hell of a time figuring it out on his own. He slumped down, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I kissed the kid." He admitted.

Warren smiled. "And so?" he asked.

"And so," Logan continued, "I don't know what ta do now."

Warren puzzled a moment before replying tentatively. "Logan…" he began. "If I _have_ to tell you, I will, but I really don't think it's that complicated. I mean, it isn't all _that_ much different than with a woman and-"

"You know that ain't what I meant!" Logan growled, jerking his head up.

Warren smiled. "Well then, it's even simpler."

"What's that supposed ta mean?" Logan demanded.

Warren shrugged. "Kiss him again."

"It's not that easy." He protested.

"Why isn't it?" Warren wanted to know.

Logan glowered at him. "Don't you even think? Look, I ain't gonna fall for someone that ain't gonna stick around this time."

"What makes you think he won't?" Warren persisted.

Logan stared at the man like he was truly daft. "Don't be a moron." He replied.

"Logan," Warren challenged. "What makes you think he wouldn't stick around? Even a hooker likes a place to hang his hat, you know."

"I don't want it like that!" Logan retorted.

"Fine." Warren replied. "But that's all the advice I have. Either get over it or get on top of it."

Logan's eyes widened. It was rare that Warren was so crass which lead him to believe the man might have some sort of voyeuristic interest in his love life.

"My Usual." Warren finally replied, grinning smugly over Logan's response.

_**-scene-**_

As the evening wore on, it was becoming increasingly apparent that the boy was avoiding him. Logan wasn't sure why, but this set his hackles up and he didn't like it at all.

He watched the kid slip back to the kitchen as the last customer departed for the evening. It was time to settle this once and for all.

Logan locked the bar up for the night, turning off the lights before slipping back to the kitchen himself. The kid was already gone, and he figured he'd gone upstairs. He could hear the shower running, and that was a sure sign.

_**-scene-**_

Remy wrapped the towel around his waist, preparing to go to his room. Logan hated it when he took the towels out of the bathroom because he had a habit of leaving them piled in the corner of his closet, but he figured Logan had a lot of other reasons to hate him at the current moment, so it didn't much matter. He sighed, tugging the door open and prepared to step out, but was stopped short.

"B-boss…" he stammered. The bigger man was leaning in the doorway, his arms folded, a look of deep concentration on his face. "Ah!… Remy gon' put de towel back dis time…" he promised nervously.

"Ain't about the towel, kiddo." Logan replied in a resigned tone.

Remy swallowed hard. "Non?" he asked.

"Non." Logan replied.

Remy opened his mouth to reply, beg, anything. If he was going to be kicked out, he at least wanted the chance to speak for himself. But before he got that chance, a strong arm had suddenly wrapped around his waist and pulled him crushingly against Logan's chest. Logan's mouth was on his, kissing his hard and deep, and Remy had no words left in his mind to form thoughts. He stiffened at first, surprised, unsure, but eventually, it was too much and he melted into the older man's arms. He gripped the front of Logan's shirt, not intending to let him go so easily this time.

A slight fear crept into his mind like pinpricks as the passion of the kiss increased. Logan tugged at Remy's bottom lip before moving his mouth to the boy's throat, kissing, sucking…

What should he do? What was expected of him? But Remy's fears gradually melted away as he realized that regardless of the intensity with which the man expressed his affection, his hands had not strayed below the hem of the towel, and didn't seem as though they would. That was quite a comfort. He allowed himself to relax, his eyes sliding closed as he drank in the sensation of those lips and that tongue and those arms. Ultimately, the moment ended and Logan pulled away from him slowly, rubbing the back of his hair in an embarrassed gesture.

Remy waited with baited breath. Would it be like before? Would he apologize and regret his actions? Ignore him for another day, or worse?

Instead, the man looked up with a rakish grin on his face. "Ya like that?" he asked.

"Mais Oui…" Remy breathed in relief. "Bien Siur!"

Logan took the boy's chin between his thumb and forefinger, stealing another quick kiss. "Good." He replied.

The redheaded youth hesitated a moment. "Boss?" he asked quietly.

"Hn?" Logan asked, now used to the appellation.

"Don'… don' wan' to sleep in de closet tonight." He told him. "Is too dark."

Logan studied the boy. Remy's eyes were downcast, studying the cracks in the floorboards. "You know I ain't expectin' nothin…" he pointed out.

"Que?" Remy asked, puzzled, looking up.

"Fine." Logan nodded. "Come on."

_**-scene-**_


	7. Take me to your room

_**-scene-**_

"Here." Logan shoved a pair of boxers and an oversized t-shirt into the kid's hands. "You can wear these."

Remy nodded and turned around to dress himself. Logan made ready the bed with fresh sheets, trying not to let on that he was watching the kid out the corner of his eye. He was trying to be a gentleman, after all.

Remy cleared his throat softly and Logan turned around. "Too big." He told the older man, holding out the boxers. Logan glanced at the boy, assessing his state. The t-shirt made it about halfway to his knees, hanging slightly off the boy's shoulder.

"That's fine." He told the kid. "Then don't wear em."

Remy flushed a little, but nodded. "Okay." He replied, but made no effort to move.

Logan chuckled, strolling leisurely to the boy. He took Remy's hand gently, pulling the boy with him to the bed. "Come on." He murmured. "I ain't gonna bite." _yet… _he thought to himself, and Remy obliged, allowing himself to be led.

Logan pulled back the covers, sliding over to give the kid room.

Remy climbed into the bed next to the man and was immediately overwhelmed by that scent he had grown to love so well. He smiled, sighing happily as he cuddled up next to the bigger man.

"You're the friendly sort, ain't ya?" Logan grinned, wrapping an arm around the kid.

Remy chuckled. "You warm." He told the man.

"Oh, is that all." He rolled his eyes, then hooked his hands under the kid's arms, pulling him up a bit higher. He took Remy's chin in his hand again, kissing him slowly, softly, allowing the kid all the time in the world to warm up to him. It felt good to be kissing him, but it also felt so temporary. He was afraid to miss out on a single moment, not knowing if he'd be given the chance again, come morning.

Remy sighed contentedly, sliding one hand down the older man's muscular chest. He felt himself shiver as his thumb came into contact with a nipple, and he wondered if it was his own response, or Logan's. He was so submerged in emotion that he wasn't sure if he had ever re-erected his shields or not.

Logan slid his hand down to cover the boys, rubbing his thumb lightly over the Cajun's delicate fingers, marveling at how very different they were from a woman's. They were soft, but stronger than a woman's, just like his mouth. It was odd to feel the coarseness of another man's skin against his own, and the hardness of his muscles, more angles than curves. It was odd, but delicious, and it fired his passion in a way he was sure he had never felt before.

"Boss?" Remy asked, and his voice was nervous.

"Shhh…" Logan silenced him, pulling the boy down to rest on his muscular chest. "Let's go to sleep." He felt the boy relax then, and smiled. It was nice to share a bed with someone who wasn't expecting to get paid.

_**-scene-**_

Remy felt himself waking up before he was truly awake and he tried to coerce himself back into sleep. Sadly, his body did not want to listen and he gradually allowed his eyes to open. Logan was still beside him, or rather, beneath him, as Remy had spent the night sleeping on the older man's chest. Logan was apparently still asleep, and Remy was glad for it because he didn't know how to act once the man awoke. He wasn't sure what their relationship had become, if anything. He knew he wanted it to be something, but they really barely knew anything about each other. He bit his lower lip in concentration, studying the object of his affection.

Slowly, Logan realized he was being watched and cracked an eyelid, catching sight of the boy. "Somethin' wrong?" he mumbled sleepily.

Remy hesitated. "Mah favorite color's purple. Ah like fish, not steak. Sometimes ah get scayed o' de dark."

Logan was fully awake now, and he propped himself up on his elbows to better examine the younger man. "Yah?" he asked.

"Deese ah tings a want you to know…" Remy said quietly, casting his eyes down.

Logan took the boy's chin in his hand, bringing the boy's eyes back up to his own. "Let me find em out on my own." He murmured in reply, drawing the boy to him, kissing his softly.

Remy felt his heart flutter. When the kiss broke, he smiled softly. "Boss," he began.

"Call me Logan." The older man appealed, brushing a stray lock of cinnamon hair from the boy's eyes.

"Logan…" Remy's smile broadened.

"Mmm, I like the sound of that." Logan replied, now running his fingers through the man's hair and down the back of his neck.

"Bar gonna open soon…" Remy commented offhandedly.

"Nope." Logan replied. "I'm callin' in sick."

Remy's eyes widened in shock. "Can you do dat?" he asked.

"It's my bar. I can do what I want."

The boy paused, then smiled playfully. "Boss, ah tink ah come down wit a cold. Suppose ah betta call in sick too, non?"

Logan laughed, tapping the kid's nose. "Suppose so." He replied. "How ya feel about a late breakfast?"

"Late?" Remy asked. "How late?"

Logan glanced to the clock, 11:00. "Three o'clock." He replied.

Remy smiled. "Sound divine."

_**-scene-**_

Warren chuckled to himself, glancing at his watch. He had a feeling the bar wouldn't be opening that day. Well, that was alright, but he certainly expected all the juicy details.

_**-scene-**_

"Hn-nn. Don' wan it." Remy replied for the umpteenth time, flipping through the morning's newspaper listlessly, looking for pictures.

"Geez, you sure are picky the morning after a good sleep!" Logan accused, still searching through the fridge for something the kid would eat for breakfast.

"Mmm, had such a good taste dis mo'nin, don't want to spoil it." He replied with a wink.

Logan grinned. "Y'no, ya could always have second helpings fer desert, if yer a good boy an' eat yer breakfast." He replied.

Remy smiled. "Fine. Ah'll have toast."

"No," Logan shook his head. "Not just toast. It's either gonna be pancakes or biscuits and gravy. Ya hardly eat an' I don't want ya getting' any skinnier."

Remy rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips. "Oui Mama." He teased. "whateva you tink best."

Logan was tempted to pinch him, but he decided against it. Pinching would definitely lead to something more this morning and he really wanted the kid to eat first.

The two spent the day just basking in each other's presence in a way that neither had ever done before. Remy sprawled across Logan's lap on the sofa while the older man watched television, Logan all the while playing idly with his russet locks. They traded stories and memories over tea, hot co-coa for Remy, Logan was noticing that the kid had one hell of a sweet tooth, and later, Logan let Remy sit on the bike while he adjusted the tension in the breaks. When evening finally rolled around, Logan couldn't remember a time he'd been more relaxed. All of the previous month's tension just washed away with the boy's beautiful smile or a soft kiss.

Logan was learning many things about his boy. Important things, like the fact that the boy's bottom lip was deliciously full and pouty, and that he had two dimples in his lower back that only showed when his shirt crept up just right, like it did when he sprawled across the sofa with a feline grace. He was realizing that the kid's accent was full and rich and had more roots than just the New Orleans drawl he'd first picked up on. He was noticing that the kid was mischievous and playful, and seemed so much more naïve than he could possibly be. Remy liked gaudy jewelry, and he liked Logan's t-shirts. He liked hot baths, and he adored napping. He loved to be pampered, and he hated to be teased, and would pout most piteously, which is why Logan did it so often. He was impressed by Logan's Chevy, but utterly aroused by his bike, and that was a note that Logan decided to file away for future reference. In one day, one day of truly listening and watching, Logan felt that he knew more about the boy than anyone ever had and it made him proud. And he wanted to keep learning more.

"Mmm… let's take a bath." He murmured into the boy's ear.

Remy stiffened, but didn't pull out of the man's lap. "L-Logan?" he stammered.

"I don't want ta be away from you." Logan explained, nuzzling his neck.

Remy trusted the man, but he was still shy to be so utterly exposed. He thought on it a moment before deciding that if one didn't start taking risks, one had little chance of gain. "Okay…" he agreed quietly.

Logan lead the boy up the stairs to the bathroom, holding his hand the entire way. Once in the sanctity of the room, neither spoke. Logan plugged the large, porcelain tub and checked the water temperature as it started to fill, then turned back to face the boy.

Remy was standing, his back pressed against the door, examining the tiles at his feet shyly.

Logan smiled. It was interesting to watch the kid. He was as modest as a schoolgirl, and Logan found that fact amusing. He strolled cautiously to the boy, putting a hand on the side of his face and leaning in. He captured the boy's mouth in a kiss, sliding his tongue past those delicate lips into the bliss beyond.

Remy sighed softly, his eyes closing as the man pulled away, trailing kisses along the boy's jaw, up to his ear.

"D'you want me to help you?" he asked quietly.

Remy stiffened, a bit nervously but gave one, curt nod.

Logan chuckled, sliding a hand under the hem of the boy's shirt, trailing it up his abdomen and chest before gently lifting it over his head, tossing it aside. He braced his palm in the middle of the boy's back, kissing his chest ardently, flicking his tongue out against the boy's nipple.

Remy gasped and felt his cheeks flush a sudden red, but he did not tell the man to stop.

Logan popped the button of the boy's jeans open, drawing the zipper down slowly, torturously before sliding his hand down the back, cupping Remy's firm backside.

Remy squirmed slightly, hoping the man would notice his discomfort, and he did. Logan removed his hand, drawing up to kiss the kid again before pulling away.

"I'll take mine off first." He offered, sliding his hands to the front of his own jeans.

Remy let his eyes follow the man's hands, though he knew it would only make him blush more, but at this point, he couldn't look away.

Logan drew his jeans down, tossing them aside, leaving nothing but a pair of black, silk boxers between his manhood and Remy's line of sight.

"I'm gonna take 'em off." Logan told him. "You okay with that?"  
Remy nodded, but closed his eyes, and Logan couldn't help but smile.

"I'll get into the water." He offered. "That way you won't have to look."

Remy nodded, growing more embarrassed by the minute as he tried to dig his fingers into the wood of the door behind him.

Logan slipped off his boxers, sliding into the water. It was warm and comforting and he sighed deeply. "Gonna join me?" he asked.

Remy opened one eye, noticing that the man had kept his promise. "…Close ya' eyes firs." He ordered.

Logan raised an eyebrow but obliged. "Alright." He agreed. "If ya want me to."

Remy waited to make sure the man was going to do as he was told before he slipped his jeans down, pushing them aside. He carefully approached the tub, noticing that he really couldn't see anything beneath the soapy surface of the layer. Bubbles. He smiled. He liked that. He slid into the water carefully, facing Logan. "Okay." He finally replied, and Logan opened his eyes.

He smiled at the kid, and then laughed. He couldn't help it. The boy was so cute, pressed up against his end of the tub, a deep blush coloring his cheeks, his red on black eyes staring distrustfully at the older man.

"Come 'ere." Logan told him, gesturing for the boy to join him on his end of the tub. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, alright?"

Remy hesitated, but finally obliged, sliding into Logan's arms. He stiffened a little as he felt the man's nakedness against his backside, but eventually relaxed as Logan drew his wet fingers lightly through the boy's hair.

Remy sighed, laying back against Logan's chest, both the water and the presence of the other man soothing him. It wasn't so bad, he decided. It wasn't so bad at all.


	8. Make me yours make me cry

_**-scene-**_

"Honestly!" Warren exclaimed, though his anger was easily outed as a rouse by the grin that soon followed. "Closing the bar for a _whole_ week without any prior notice?" he accused. "That's _not_ very good business sense."

"Ah, who cares." Logan grinned, leaning on his elbow and watching the red-headed youth set a glass of water in front of the latest customer.

"Who knew?" Warren teased. "All it takes is a '_Oui Boss, shua ting'_" He mocked in a very poor Cajun accent. "And you're on your knees, or is it the other way around?" he grinned.

"I already told ya," Logan replied, shaking his head. "It ain't like that."

"Oh of course it is." Warren replied shortly. "I know you better than that, Logan, and you're not the type to keep around house pets who won't do tricks."

Logan shot the man a look. "You think I got some reason to lie?" he asked in a steely voice.

"What?" Warren raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying it's a completely platonic, work appropriate relationship and you just happen to share these silly little lover's glances as well as the same bed?"

"Never said it was platonic." Logan replied gruffly.

Warren raised an accusing eyebrow.

"I kiss 'im, alright?" Logan snapped. "I kiss 'im an' I hold 'im an' I like ta have 'im sleep next to me. That a problem?"

Warren's other eyebrow decided to join the first one on his forehead in surprise. "Why Logan, I never knew you were the romantic type." He exclaimed.

"Neither did I." Logan grumped, turning away, and it was obvious the man was blushing.

"Why Logan!" Warren grinned. "Is that young Southern dandy taming our Wolverine?"

"Can it, Wings," he shot. "Unless ya want a mouth full o' metal."

"You wouldn't!" Warren drew his hand to his mouth in mock surprise. "In front of all these people?" he grinned. "In front of your little lover boy? You wouldn't want to scare him, you know…"

Logan shook his head. "He already knows about me." He replied.

Warren blinked. "He what?"

Logan gave him a meaningful look. "He's one of us, Warren.

"He's… Oh!" Warren's eyes widened as realization dawned on him. "You mean..? So what does he _do_?"

"He's an empath." Logan replied with a weary look.

"Logan, that's _dangerous_." Warren leaned in.

"That ain't the half of it." Logan replied, pulling up a barstool of his own. "Found out the hard way he's also a kinesthite."

Warren waited interestedly for an explanation. "And?" he prompted.

"Let's just say, when the kid has a nightmare, I'm lucky I don't lose more than furniture." He replied.

"Energy projection?" Warren asked.

Logan held up his hands in demonstration. "Why ya think he wears those gloves?"

Warren chanced a look back at the boy. He wore a pair of thin, black gloves. "That must certainly spice things up in the bedroom." He joked.

"I told ya, it ain't like that!" Logan growled.

"Well why not?" Warren pried. "If he already knows, then you've got nothing left to hide."

"It ain't about that." Logan replied, looking away. "It's just… y'no, I know he _ain't_, but he seems so… _innocent_. So fragile. It's like I'm afraid ta take things too fast. Don't want ta scare 'im off."

Warren bit his lower lip for a moment. "Logan, you know he's-"

"I know what he is!" Logan exclaimed. "But I can't help it anymore. I feel how I feel and ain't nothin' changin' that."

Warren glanced back to make sure the boy was a safe distance away. "Logan, what if he's just using you? You know… a house, free meals, _protection_…"

"I already thought about all that." Logan shook his head. "And I guess I just don't care. Wouldn't be the first time." He gave the man a telling look.

"Logan, you know Jean never meant to-"

"Didn't she?" he interrupted. "Don't they all, in the end? Ain't that what it's about? All anybody's out for is what somebody else can do for them anyhow. It ain't no different in relationships."

Warren paused. "Then what does _he_ do for _you_?" he pressed.

"He makes me feel good." Logan replied un-haltingly. "I'm happy 'cause he's around, and that's good enough for me."

Warren sighed. "You really are a romantic." He replied, laying his head down on the bar. "You know, it's the romantic types that always get their hearts broken."

Logan nodded. "Better broken than empty."

Warren glanced up. He was surprised to be learning so much about Logan. He had come down out of curiosity, and maybe a little loneliness, but he was really starting to respect this man.

_**-scene-**_

That night, as Remy climbed the stairs, he couldn't help but feel a little thrill of excitement. He no longer slept in the closet, as Logan preferred having him by his side, where he could _keep an eye on him_, he'd said, but Remy knew it was more that that.

The Acadian had long known of his own persuasions, but he had never even dreamed that they would lead him to such happiness. Logan had given him more joy in one short week than anyone else had in an entire lifetime.

"Takin' yer time, Gumbo?" Logan drawled from the top of the stairs. He was wearing a pair of flannel sleeping pants, a teasing grin, and nothing in between.

Remy grinned back. "Why you in such a hurry?" he accused playfully. "Can' sleep wit'out yo' teddy beya?"

Logan snorted. "That what ya think you are?"

Remy shrugged demurely, feigning a lack of interest. "Don' know… ain't dat what Remy is?"

Upon reaching the top stair, he was swept up into masculine arms and held flush against Logan's warm chest.

"You want somethin' more than that?" Logan murmured into his neck.

Remy felt himself flush. "B- Boss…" he moaned slightly, giving in to the caresses. The man made him melt like shaved ice in a bayou summer. "_peut-etre…_" he muttered quietly.

In moments, they had made their way to the bedroom, both with baited breath. Remy swallowed thickly as Logan's hands explored his body in ways they had before been want to do. The older man's rough fingers caressed his sensitive skin while his other hand found purchase on the youth's firm bottom.

"Nn!" Remy yelped, but didn't protest. His breath caught in his throat as the t-shirt was slowly lifted from his body and he was pushed backwards onto the bed.

The frame creaked in protest as Logan slid his form between the boy's knees, leaning down to press their mouths together in a heated kiss, his hands working the buckle of Remy's belt, slowly drawing the faded jeans down his toned legs.

Remy could feel his adrenaline rising and his breath hitched in his chest, his heart beating a frantic tempo.

Logan moved his lips possessively to the boy's throat, nipping slightly.

Remy yelped, then groaned.

"Logan, cher…" the youth begged with baited breath. "Be gentle, S'il tu plait. Neva done not'in like dis befo…"

Logan chuckled. "It's okay Rem, ya' don't gotta act for me."

Remy's eyes opened in confusion. "Act?" he asked. "What choo mean Act?"

Logan returned the quizzical stare. "Remy, I love ya' for who you are." He explained. "I don't care about all that stuff.

The redhead propped himself up on his elbows, beginning to look a bit annoyed. "Non, what choo _mean_?" he demanded again. "Who ah _am_?" he asked incredulously, batting Logan's hand away.

Logan sat back, confused. "Rem, I don't care, _honest_!"

"Don' keya what?" he ground out.

"That you're a… well, that you were…"

Remy's jaw fell slack as the realization hit him. "You t'ink Remy _jeunne homme de joie_." He accused angrily.

Logan paused. "Well… y'no, yer just really good with customers an' everything. Christ, Rem, ya said so yerself! Ya said ya got a lot of experience with that kind o' thing!" Now _he_ was beginning to get annoyed.

"Ah _meant_ de restaurant business!" Remy shouted, jumping up, now furiously collecting his discarded clothing.

"Rems, wait!" Logan implored him, now seeing his mistake. He took the boy's wrist gently.

"Get cho hans off me!" Remy growled, yanking his wrist away and jerking his trousers back on. "_Cochon_!" He spat viciously.

"Remy!" Logan tried, "I _thought_ that was what you _meant_!"

The boy spun around, his chest heaving with emotion. "Mebbe mah English not so good," he scowled, "O' mebbe you jes heeya what choo _wan_ to!" With that, he spun around, knocking the door aside and storming down the stairs.

"Shit." Logan growled, running a hand irritably through his hair. That was not at all how he'd planned the evening turning out.


End file.
